What Happens In Seattle
by purpleplasticpurse
Summary: What could possibly go wrong when Nadine and Mike end up in Seattle together on a work trip? Chapter 2 is rated M!
1. Chapter 1

Well everyone, it's been a hot minute since I put anything on here. A few times a year I come out of writing hibernation and bang something out. Still on the Mike B/Nadine kick, despite them being just a distant memory at this point. At this point I don't think I'll ever be over them.

...

On a stormy Monday night when she's gathering her purse and raincoat, her phone rings. For a brief moment she considers letting it go, more than ready to leave for the evening. When she sees Elizabeth's name flashing across the tiny screen, she knows that's not an option, and quickly lifts the receiver up to her ear.

Elizabeth sounds hesitant. "Nadine, are you heading out for the evening?"

"In just a few minutes, ma'am. Is there something you need?" Nadine pauses, realizing this is a tone she rarely hears her boss use. It's almost … apologetic? Apprehensive? Either way, it peaks her curiosity. She's fairly used to Elizabeth making requests of her that are often any combination of demanding, draining, or time consuming. Despite that, her boss is not typically apologetic in her needs.

"Can you stop by my office before you leave? I need to ask you a favor."

Nadine twists the phone cord around her hand. "Of course. I'll be there in a moment." She hangs up the phone and shrugs into her raincoat, wondering what could have come across the secretary's desk in the last thirty minutes since she'd left her.

Elizabeth's feet are crossed at the ankle and perched cautiously on the edge of her large desk, fingers laced behind her head. She almost looks relaxed, and greets her chief of staff with a genuine smile. "Hey, Nadine."

"Ma'am?"

"Thanks for coming in. Listen, I know it's been a long day and I'm sure you're just as ready to get out of here as I am. I need to ask you a favor, and it might not be something you're going to like." Elizabeth is not one to sugarcoat, a quality Nadine typically appreciates. But for some reason, it doesn't sit well tonight.

Nodding, Nadine drops in the chair across from Elizabeth's desk, setting her purse at her feet.

"Jay was slated to attend the UN Sustainable Development Summit in Seattle starting on Wednesday morning."

Nadine nods, vaguely remembering Jay mentioning it during one of their many meetings that week. "I remember, ma'am."

"Well, I just got off the phone with him. Apparently, Abby's mom broke her hip this afternoon and needs emergency surgery. Abby can't take Chloe with her to her moms house, so Jay's out." Elizabeth takes her glasses off and pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Is everything alright?" Now it makes sense why Jay was noticeably absent at their briefing meeting just an hour prior.

"Abby's a little stressed, understandably so, and Jay seemed a bit … flustered...when I spoke with him. Anyway, Nadine, I know it's it's last minute but I'm asking that you go in Jay's place."

Nadine nods thoughtfully, briefly wondering if she should call Jay and see if there's anything she can do **.** She's had her share of hip related injuries over the years- he and Abby are in for a tough few weeks."Of course, ma'am." She isn't necessarily thrilled about the impromptu assignment, but given her position, it comes with the territory. Not that she dislikes traveling, but it's been a week already, with numerous unfinished projects that demand her attention. Of course, being away from the State Department for almost an entire week is certainly not going lessen her workload, or anyone else's for that matter.

"Before you say yes, there's something you might want to know." Elizabeth averts her eyes over Nadine's shoulder, and her face is a cross between amusement and sympathy.

"Oh?" Nadine's spine stiffens, waiting for whatever ball that is about to drop.

"Mike B is also going. In fact, he specifically requested that Jay attend."

Nadine feels the blood rush from her face, her palms going unexplainably clammy. She clears her throat and shifts uncomfortably in her seat. "Ah, ma'am, …" her voice trails off, unsure of what to say. "I can't possibly see why Mike B attending would present itself an issue." She knows it doesn't sound convincing, but it's worth a shot.

Elizabeth is trying to hide her amusement and failing miserably. "I know things between you two didn't end well." She steeples her fingers beneath her chin and clears her throat.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am?" Suddenly feeling more exposed, Nadine crosses her arms across her chest and stiffens. _Your obligation is to this job, Nadine_ , she reminds herself, annoyed that she's letting the thought of Mike B get into her head and linger there for too long.

"Nothing is sacred around here, as I'm sure you are aware. Plus," Elizabeth trails off, seemingly choosing her words carefully. "Despite all of his flaws, Mike is a good friend of mine. Sometimes we talk about things that aren't work related."

"Is that so?" Nadine swallows somewhat angrily, peeved that her boss has such insight into her personal affairs, but more so at herself for not realizing it a long time ago.

Elizabeth know she's hit a nerve. "Honestly, Nadine, whatever happened between you and Mike isn't my business. What you do in your personal life isn't my concern." She stops for a minute before continuing. "What I will say is that he certainly isn't the easiest man to put up with. In any situation."

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Mike very clearly told Elizabeth how things ended between him and Nadine. So much for keeping things quiet. "Well in that case, I'll start clearing my schedule, ma'am."

"It's already been cleared. Jay will handle your appointments and meetings as soon as he's back, which barring any unforeseen issues, should be Wednesday. The rest of the team has graciously offered to pick up any loose slack in your absence. We should be just fine without you for a few days."

"Looks like you have everything under control," Nadine says smoothly.

"Blake will be sending you an updated briefing for the week and all of the travel arrangements by 10 PM tonight. The flight leaves tomorrow evening."

"Does Mike know about this last minute switch?.

"I haven't quite had a chance to tell him yet."

"I see." Somehow Nadine doubts the secretary's lack of chance, but she says nothing.

"Mike will mind his manners and be a gentleman. I just felt that you should be aware of the circumstances."

"Well, I appreciate you being discreet about the matter," Nadine responds dryly.

"You know, if you're feeling particularly generous, I'm sure Mike wouldn't be disappointed it if you had dinner with him once or twice. He was disgustingly mopey the last I saw him." Elizabeth puts her glasses back on, a tiny grin crawling across her lips.

"Is that so, ma'am?"

"He knows he messed up. Mike's not very subtle when he's ruminating, despite what he thinks." Elizabeth puts her glasses back on and shifts a few folders around her desk. "I told him he needed to take it up with you when the time came."

"Well then, I'm sure we have plenty to catch up on in Seattle." Nadine decides not to comment on Mike B any further and she rises from her chair, reaching for her bag. "Well, if that's all, ma'am, I should head home to get a start on packing."

"Of course. Goodnight, Nadine, and thank you."

She tries to remind herself that her obligation is to Elizabeth, and that her personal matters shouldn't interfere with work. Somehow, she has a feeling it won't be that easy.

…

Luckily, they're on separate flights.

Nadine is completely relieved when he doesn't show up at her gate Tuesday afternoon. Before boarding, she has a glass of wine in the restaurant in the terminal, making small talk with the bartender, a young man who reminds her of Roman. Despite it being a full flight to Seattle, the not quite six hours she spends in the air are peaceful and for once, almost relaxing. She takes a few minutes to answer some late in the day emails but spends the majority of the flight reading until the cabin gets too dim.

It's 8:35 Pacific time when she steps off the gate into SeaTac, and she quickly navigates herself to baggage claim. Once she's collected her luggage, She calls an Uber and within the hour she's at the hotel.

Nadine has been to enough of these events throughout her years of service, so she's not surprised to see the somewhat long check-in line at the hotel concierge and an even more full hotel bar a few yards past the lobby of government professionals in suits, sipping drinks and making small talk. Almost the entire line (save for a family of 5 with several young children directly ahead of her and a few others) is full of people also attending the summit. She blends right in.

Nadine rests her purse on her suitcase and reaches for her phone. She taps out a text to Roman, letting him know she landed safely, then one to Elizabeth to let her know she'd be in touch tomorrow morning for any last minute memos for the first sessions of the Summit. Finally she sends one to Blake, reminding him to keep her updated with the seventh-floor happenings. It's when she's reviewing the agenda for tomorrow morning when she hears the one voice that can simultaneously give her goose bumps and boil her blood.

"You certainly don't look anything like Jay Whitman."

She'd know that voice anywhere _._

She spins around, nearly rolling her suitcase into the family of five in front of her to face Mike B, immaculately dressed in a suit and expensive shoes. It was barely evident he too had just spent 6 hours on a plane.

"Mike," she greets him half heartedly.. "Nice to see you." Nadine swallows hard.

"I heard Jay backed out for his mother in law. I wouldn't have backed out for my former mother in law's broken hip, that's for sure."

"Well, clearly not everyone shares the same values as you, Mike."

"Funny, Bess said the same thing when she told me you were taking Jay's place." Mike looks around the lobby and shrugs his shoulders. He's not oblivious to her lack of interest in their conversation, but not about to let her off the hook that easily. "How long has it been, Nadine?"

"A few months..." She does some mental calculations. _Yep, about 4 months._

His eyes scan her frame, and linger boldly for just a few seconds too long on her legs. "Well, it's a pleasure to see you. You look great, as usual."

"Thank you." The line doesn't seem to be budging anytime soon. She's stuck here. Great. She rummages through her bag for her phone, her wallet - anything to distract her from making awkward small talk with Mike.

"Want to grab a bite to eat once we're checked in? I'm going to go out on a limb and assume you didn't have dinner."

"I … I ate," Nadine begins feebly. She knows - hell they both know - that was a bold faced lie. If she was being honest, she _was_ starting to feel pretty hungry. The airplane snacks hadn't done much for her.

"The pretzels on the plane don't count, you know. There's a steakhouse a few blocks away from here that is phenomenal, but if you're not feeling steak, the hotel bar actually has a _great_ late night menu." Leave it to Mike to know the scoop on every restaurant in a five block radius.

She's about to make an excuse about room service when Mike gestures behind Nadine. "Looks like you're up. Call me if you change your mind about dinner."

Chiding herself for not thinking quicker, Nadine pulls her suitcase behind her to the desk and greets the man at the desk with a smile. According to his nametag, his name is Brandon. "Checking in, Nadine Tolliver." She reaches for her wallet and hands him her phone with the confirmation number. For good measure, she also presents her government credentials.

"Certainly, Ms. Tolliver." Brandon punches a few keys on the iPad, clicks a few screens, narrows his eyes, then punches a few more keys. "Um, ma'am, there seems to be an issue with your reservation. Your confirmation number seems to have been cancelled."

"I'm sorry?" Nadine props her elbows on the desk. "Cancelled?"

"Yes … there's no booking of a room under your name."

"There should have been a last minute change to the reservation. It originally was under a Jay Whitman?" According to Blake, this had been taken care of.

Brandon presses a few keys, and shakes his head. "I'm not seeing anything on my screen that matches your name or confirmation number. When did the change to the reservation take place?"

"Within the last day or so."

Brandon spends a few moments clicking through screens and pressing keys. "I think I've identified the issue, ma'am. Apparently whoever altered your reservation accidentally deleted it." He looks apologetic.

"Accidentally deleted it?" Nadine's lower back starts to ache, her patience wearing thin.

"Yes. Actually, there were two reservations under this booking account. A Michael Barnow? He also had a confirmation number that was deleted." Brandon clears his throat awkwardly.

Nadine rolls her eyes. "Mr. Barnow should have been assigned to a separate room." She looks over her shoulder at Mike B, who is impatiently tapping his foot. He catches her eye, mouthing, _what's wrong?_ From his spot in line. She ignores him and turns back to Brandon.

"There has to be some mistake."

"I didn't confirm the cancellation, ma'am, and it may have been a glitch in the system, but from what I am seeing, when Mr. Whitman's reservation was cancelled, yours was never added, and Mr. Barnow's was also deleted in the process. Your reservations were made by the same account, which could also account for the mix-up. He spins the iPad around to face Nadine and gives her an awkward half-smile, confirming that she was indeed shit out of luck. "Does Mr. Barnow happen to be here with you? Perhaps we could figure out a solution for the mix-up."

Nadine rests her head on her hand. "That can't be," she begins, reaching for her phone to pull up the documents Blake had forwarded to her. _Surely_ he'd double checked and verified the switch.

"I'm Mike Barnow," Mike's voice booms from behind her, pulling his suitcase behind him up the the counter beside her. Brandon glances between Mike and Nadine.

"You're Michael Barnow, sir?"

"The one and only," Mike retorts with a grin. "What's the problem?"

"Sir, I'm incredibly sorry for the inconvenience, but somehow there was a glitch with yours and Ms. Tolliver's room reservations, and we do not have rooms for you available at this time."

Mike's eyes grow wide, and his jaw tightens. For once, he doesn't look amused. "That has to be a mistake. I have my confirmation here." Mike hands the him his phone, and Brandon looks between their two screens before turning back to his iPad.

"I understand, sir. When Mr. Whitman's reservation was cancelled and Ms. Tolliver was added, apparently there was a glitch that deleted all 3 of your reservations. I'm so very sorry that this happened. Our system is very reliable but unfortunately not perfect."

Nadine casts a sideways glance at Mike, who meets her gaze with just as much indignation. "Is there anything you can do?" She can almost feel the color drain from her cheeks and her hands go numb. She wishes the floor would open up and swallow her entirely.

Brandon taps a few keys on the iPad, peering closely at the screen. "We - ah - uh - " he clears his throat, as if he knows the answer will only complicate matters more. "we do have one room available."

"One?" Mike and Nadine answer in unison, meeting each other's eyes with disbelief.

"Just one. Because of the mix up, we would be more than happy to comp your stay. I need a credit card on file for any incidental charges."

"So you're saying we have to stay in the same hotel room for 4 days?"

Brandon clears his throat again, looking behind him for a manager or higher-up to relieve him, with no luck. ""Ms. Tolliver, Mr. Barnow, I'm incredibly sorry. I'm afraid we are at capacity without any additional rooms for the duration of your stay. There's a chance we may have another vacancy in the next day or so, but it is unlikely." Brandon shifts in his seat, looking increasingly uncomfortable. "If something does open up, I will make sure one of you is moved immediately, and of course, your stay would be comped."

"One of us might not make it out alive before then," Mike jokes. "Probably me."

Brandon looks between him and Nadine awkwardly, looking like he wants to disappear..

Momentarily forgetting her surroundings, Nadine snaps at him. "You know, sometimes the Mike B show gets really old."

"Pretty sure you liked it at some point," Mike snaps right back. At this point, Brandon looks like he wants to disappear.

"Um Ms. Tolliver, Mr. Barnow, if you are agreeing to take the available room… I'll just need a credit card on file... for _incidentals_ ," Brandon tries again gently, interrupting their bickering, yet struggling to make eye contact with either of them. If it were any other circumstances, she may have found the entire situation comical. Nadine glances at her watch. 9:45. It's been a long day, and the exhaustion is beginning to catch up with her, the start of a headache pulsing in her temples. "Fine," she sighs dejectedly, resigning herself to the fact that for the next few days, she's sharing a room with Mike B whether she likes it or not.

"Sure," they both grumble in unison, reaching for their wallets.

"I got it,," She brandishes the small plastic square between her fingers, but Mike's hand is surprisingly gentle over hers, pushing her hand away from the counter and wedging his body slightly in front of hers.

"I'm taking care of it, Nadine." He hands over his black Amex firmly, indicating a done deal. Conceding, she sighs and tucks her card away in her wallet.

After a few more awkward moments of silence, Brandon pushes two key cards in their direction. "You are in room 1038. Elevator is over there," he gestures toward the hallway to their left. "Tenth floor, to the left. There's a complimentary hotel breakfast that starts at 6:30 every morning, open until 8. And again, my apologies for the inconvenience. Enjoy your stay."

She wonders if he's mocking them.

"Thank you," they mutter in unison before stepping away from the counter toward the elevator.

An awkwardly quiet ride to the tenth floor follows, and when the door rings and slides open, Mike reaches for her suitcase along with his.

"I can pull my own suitcase, Mike."

"Just let me pull your damn suitcase, Nadine."

"Fine." She tosses her purse over her shoulder and slips through the doors with Mike and their luggage behind her. _Stubborn ass. Clearly nothing has changed. He's still the same self-centered, arrogant, -_ her thought process is interrupted by Mike saying her name.

"You just walked right past the room," Mike's voice is laced with as much annoyance as she feels. "1038 is back there." He turns sharply with their bags, and Nadine trudges behind him, feeling her blood pressure rise.

"Here we go." Mike swipes his key card and the door opens with a green flash and a resounding _click_. He awkwardly shoulders the door open and wrestles their two bags over the threshold. Nadine steadies herself with a few deep breaths before following him, counting to ten in a half-hearted attempt to steady her racing brain.

Mike leans on their suitcases. "Where do you want this?" He's seemingly oblivious to the sight in front of them, but it just about smacks her in the face, clear as day.

A massive, king-sized bed sits in the middle of the room. "You've got to be kidding me." Her stomach twists into a knot.

"What?" Mike's eyebrows disappear into his hairline when he catches on, his face a juxtaposition of amusement and surprise. "Well. That certainly complicates things."

"You don't say, Mike." Nadine props her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes at him. "Now what?"

"Maybe there's a pull out bed or a twin bed in the closet," Mike offers tentatively, crossing the room and pulling the closet doors open, turning up empty. "Or not."

Nadine checks the couch, which turns out to be just a normal couch, no pull-out bed. "Don't all hotel rooms have pull-out beds?." Her voice comes out a bit more bitterly than she'd intended, and she hopes Mike doesn't pick up on it.

Not surprisingly, he does. "I can go back downstairs. Maybe they can switch our room with someone else who hasn't checked in yet," Mike says cautiously - he almost looks afraid of her at this point. He's halfway toward the door when she stops him.

"They don't have anymore rooms, Mike. Just forget it. it's late. We have an early day tomorrow. Let's just … I don't know. We can figure this out in the morning." Nadine perches on one end of the large bed, shrugging out of her jacket and draping it neatly over the armchair in the corner.

"So you're saying we share the bed?" He has a tiny but unmistakable grin on his face, one she wants to wipe right off. "Are you sure that's a _good_ idea?"

"Well Mike, unless you want to sleep on the floor, I don't see another option. Unless they can move one of us to another room, looks like we're stuck." She leans over to unzip her suitcase to rummage for her toiletries bag. "I need to take a shower."

"Toss me the that remote. I'll find us something to watch. You can take the bathroom first." He flops down onto the bed, tossing his suit jacket to the side.

She's about to tell him not to bother but ultimately decides it's just better to keep her mouth shut. The less they have to engage with one another, the better.

Nadine is relieved for the tiny sanctuary of the bathroom. She turns the shower on hot, abandons her clothes in a heap on the floor, and steps into the spray, taking a few calming breaths as the day washes off of her. After about fifteen minutes, she does feel more human. She applies her face cream and brushes her teeth, neatly arranging her things on the counter before shrugging into some pajamas - luckily she'd brought the navy blue silk ones - ones he hadn't seen, thankfully- and hangs her towel on the bar.

She emerges in a cloud of steam. Mike's shoes rest at the foot of the bed. He's flipping through the TV channels, tie loosened and jacket off. "I hope you haven't been waiting too long." She's unsure of what else to say.

"Nah. I'm used to waiting for you." He turns to face her. "Nice pajamas. Are those new? I don't recognize those." With a wry grin, he pats the free side of the bed - the side she'd always taken when they were together. She hopes it wasn't intentional on his part.

Nadine rolls her eyes, tossing a pillow at him. "Bathroom's free."

"I'll give it a minute," he doesn't take his eyes off the television. "You always use all the hot water, anyway. Give it a chance to heat back up."

"Do you have to have a comment for every little thing I do" she responds icily.

"Comments? I'm just stating facts," Mike flips the channel once more, a habit Nadine always poked fun of. In their short dating tenure, he'd rarely been able to stick to one show for its duration. Finally, he settles on _Blazing Saddles_ and sets the remote down with satisfaction. "Great movie," he nudges her arm and she flinches. "You ever seen it?" When he notices her phone in her hand, he pokes her again. "Do you _ever_ put that thing down?"

Nadine sighs heavily, looking up from her phone. "No Mike, I haven't seen it. And to answer your question, I'm taking care of a few emails before getting some rest."

"You know it's bad for your eyes to stare at a screen before bed? Almost as bad as the fact that you've never seen Blazing Saddles." He fluffs the pillow behind his head and reaches for another. His nonchalant attitude towards this whole situation is starting to grate on her nerves.

"I think I'll survive, Mike. I've made it this far." She busies herself with her emails, pointedly ending the conversation.

When he's in the bathroom and before she can talk herself out of it, Nadine goes to the closet and grabs the extra pillows and blankets. She lines them up in the center of the bed, forming a barrier- a line of demarcation -between them, cursing herself and her uncertainty the whole time. She knows it's ridiculous, that it certainly won't make the situation any less uncomfortable.

Mike reappears a few short minutes later, wearing a worn UVA t-shirt she recognizes well (she has also worn it before) and sweatpants. "Great water pressure in that shower," he offers, rubbing his head dry with a towel and drapes it over the chair. "What did you think?"

"I didn't notice the water pressure, Mike." She sets her phone down on the bedside table.

"I'm going to turn out the light soon. You need anything? Water? Extra blanket?"

"No, Mike. I'm perfectly fine. Good night," Nadine replies, her back toward him. She stares at the wall, willing herself to keep her eyes shut. The scent of his soap fills her nose, and the familiarity makes her eyes burn. Or maybe it's the harsh blow of the air conditioner. Either way, her eyes sting behind her closed eyelids, and she makes a conscious effort to ignore it.

The bed dips under his weight when he climbs in beside her, settling next to her. She curses herself when it makes her heart skip a beat on its own accord.

"What time are you setting your alarm for?"

"Six thirty."

"Sounds good. I'll do six fifteen. I'll be out of your way in no time." _Somehow she doubts that_. He sets his phone down on the table and settles into the bed, adjusting the blankets. Mike's leg brushes against one of the pillows, and he stops suddenly, feeling the lumps next to him, reaching down into the depths of the bed. "What the...?" He pulls the blanket down to reveal the pillow island she'd formed just minutes before. "What the hell is this?" He glares at the pillows with disbelief, then back at her.

She sits up, sighing in frustration. "Listen, Mike, I just thought that since this isn't necessarily an ideal situation for either of us, it might keep things - "

"Might what? Are you _kidding_ me? Are you twelve years old? God damnit, Nadine. I already know what you look and feel like naked! This seems pretty damn pointless at this point." Mike looks incredulous, and slightly offended at her creation.

"That has nothing to do with this." Nadine draws her knees to her chest and lets out an angry breath, throwing the covers off of herself in the process.

"Christ, Nadine. If you actually think I would...it would be...I can't believe you." Mike takes a few deep breaths, collecting himself. "You know that's not me." A thought crosses his face and his expression changes to a crestfallen one. "Would it make you more comfortable if I slept on the couch?" To prove his point, he grabs a few pillows and the spare blanket on the bed, taking them to the small couch in the corner of the room.

"Mike, stop being ridiculous." Nadine leans back against the pillows, groaning. This was exactly what she didn't want, and exactly where they were heading. She _knew_ this wasn't a good idea.

Mike lays down and his ankles protrude off the edge of the couch arm. "See? It's comfortable. It'll work."

It looks so ridiculous she starts laughing. He winces in discomfort as he tries to shift positions, failing miserably.

Nadine stifles her laugh behind her hand. "You'll never sleep like that."

"Maybe not, but I'd rather you get some sleep than me." He rolls over pathetically and jerks in discomfort."I owe my chiropractor a visit next week, anyway. She misses me."

"Get back in this damn bed, Mike. You have ten seconds."

"I always did love when you bossed me around." His eyes shine wickedly. _He just can't control himself, can he?_ She rolls her eyes at his remark.

"Damnit, Mike. Get off the couch."

He recognizes the bite in her voice so well it wipes the grin off his face and he shuts up. His eyes bore into hers even from across the room; it makes her spine tingle. "Are you sure?" He's actually serious. "No more pillows, Nadine."

"Yes. I'm sure. Now let's just go to bed." She throws the remaining few pillows from the center of the bed onto the floor, the barrier between their respective sides gone.

Mike crosses the room in two long strides. "Alright." He flicks off the light next to the bed, and settles beside her for the second time. "I promise, I won't try anything," he adds, and Nadine hears the smirk in his voice.

 _He can't still be talking_.

"Good night, Mike." She can practically see him smirking in the dark, undoubtedly pleased with himself. Unsettled, she closes her own eyes, willing sleep to come quickly.


	2. Chapter 2

…

Despite the unfamiliar (but ridiculously comfortable) bed and less than ideal situation, Nadine sleeps the best she has in weeks. In fact, when the alarm on her phone goes off, she wakes up almost instantly. Within seconds, the events of the last twelve hours come flooding back to her, and she realizes where she is, and who she's with. She feels a heavy weight wrapped around her, looking down to see Mike's arm tucked around her waist, her back pressed firmly against his chest. Their legs are tangled together at the ankles.

 _Oh. Shit._

She checks the clock - 6:35. Mike's alarm never went off.

"Mike?" She stiffens in his arms, cautiously nudging him with her toe.

"Humph?" It barely classifies as a response.

She tries again. " _Mike_. It's six thirty! "Wake up and let go of me!"

"It's too early," Mike groans, clearly still half asleep, his face buried in her shoulder, fingers brushing the bare skin of her stomach where her top has slid up, tightening his hold on her waist.

"Mike. Let me go." She squirms in his arms, her words a bit more forceful this time.

" _What_?" Mike's voice is laced with sleep and mild annoyance at being woken up so suddenly. His eyes pop open, taking in the scene in front of him, and he instantly releases his hold on her. "Oh, shit." Mike jumps back, looking sheepish. "Sorry, Nadine." He makes a half hearted attempt to pull her shirt down past her waist before putting several inches of space between them on the bed.

"Don't worry about it. Let's just get ready before we're late," Nadine busies herself with folding her clothes from the night before. An awkward tension hangs over them as Mike turns on the TV, flicking to a news channel, and they both pretend to watch for a few moments.

"Did you sleep alright?" He finally breaks the silence.

 _Is he trying to fuck with her?_ "Just fine."

"About the uh …spooning" Mike begins, searching for the right words, a slight curl of his lips on the last word. "It won't happen again." His face is a shade of pink she doesn't recognize, but it must have struck a nerve. She's not used to seeing him off his game like this.

"It's really the least of my concerns, Mike." She doesn't take her eyes off the screen.

"I'm going to jump in the shower to wake up. I'll be quick." He makes a quick beeline for the bathroom, the door closing firmly behind him.

 _Terrific. Look what happens not even a full day in,_ she thinks, shaking her head and wondering how the next few days would play out.

 _..._

When she emerges from the bathroom thirty minutes later, wrapped in one of the bathrobes hanging on the back of the door, Mike is already dressed for the day. He's fixing his tie in the large wall mirror, dressed smartly in a navy blue suit and light pink shirt underneath. "There you are. I'm going to check out the breakfast downstairs. "What can I bring you?"

"Just tea is fine." She unzips her suitcase, and does a quick inventory of the clothes she's packed before selecting a skirt and one of her favorite blouses - one with flouncy sleeves and a back zipper in a shade of dark blue. She digs deeper for a bra.

"You need to eat something, Nadine. You'll pass out if you don't. I'll bring you a muffin or two. Blueberry right?" He doesn't have to to ask - he knows blueberry is her favorite. It hasn't been _that_ long. "I'll see if they have fruit too." He knows she prefers lighter options in the morning.

Her stomach growls, betraying her. "That would be good." She lets a grateful smile slip across her face. "Thanks, Mike."

True to his word, he brings her tea just the way she likes it- black, half a sugar packet, and a large blueberry muffin and some grapes, which she picks at while she does her hair and puts on a bit of makeup. Mike uncharacteristically leaves her alone, his back to her as he sits at the small desk in their room, typing away on his laptop computer and taking a few early phone calls and emails. She's also not surprised when he calls Gordon's dog sitter to check in.

When she's ready, she gives herself a look-over in the mirror.

"You look nice," Mike has abandoned his work and is watching her from over the top of his computer, and something shiny catches his eye. "Oh - your zipper is undone."

"Huh?" She reaches around, feeling for the zipper on her blouse, arms just too short to reach the small silver tab.

"Here, let me." He's behind her all of a sudden, hands mere centimeters from her neck. He's standing so close to her she can hear him breathe. It takes him mere seconds to pull the zipper up to the nape of her neck. "There."

The gentle brush of his fingers on her neck leaves goosebumps on her arms and she has to pull away to stop the tiny shiver running down her back. She recognizes the look on his face in the mirror behind her, and checks her watch to avoid his eyes. "It's almost time to go. We don't want to be late."

…

It's a _very_ long day. Longer than she'd anticipated, for sure. An opening speaker, multiple presentations, and several hours of short networking sessions throughout the afternoon. It leaves her with sore ankles from standing for extended periods of time, a mild headache, and a desperate need of a stiff drink. Or a nap. Or maybe both. Sustainable Development may be worthwhile, but after 8 hours she's ready for a break.

Nadine finds a spare bench in the airy lobby and sits down, rolling her ankles around in her shoes. She calls Elizabeth when the last session lets out and fills her in on the events of the day.

"Hey, Nadine," Elizabeth sounds tired. It's about 8:30 there, and Nadine hears the quiet hum of a television in the background and Henry McCord's muffled voice from the other end of the phone. "How's it going?"

"Things are fine, ma'am. Ambassador Ebyan will be in DC next month. They're very interested in a meeting with you regarding the humanitarian efforts in Somalia. I spoke with his chief of staff for quite a while this afternoon, and they're looking to visit at some point this fall. Is everyone managing back at home?"

"I see," Elizabeth begins, and Nadine can see the wheels turning in her head. "Set up that meeting sooner rather than later with Somalia before they back out."

"Of course. I'll get right on it. Is everyone managing back at home?"

" Surprisingly enough, the seventh floor survived a day without any major mishaps. I was pretty shocked, myself.

"Any word on Abby's mother?" Nadine makes a note to text Jay, another to get in touch with the ambassador's chief of staff.

"Surgery went well. She should be leaving the hospital soon, and we'll know more once Jay is back tomorrow. He took an extra day to help out at home."

"That's good to hear, ma'am. Anything I need to know or should follow up on for you?"

"Nadine, you're across the country in a different time zone. Don't worry about us. Everyone is doing just fine; we'll still be here when you get get back." Elizabeth mumbles something inaudible, and Henry laughs in the background.

"Can you repeat that, Ma'am?" Nadine tucks the phone against her shoulder, scribbling down a few notes onto a tablet.

"Nothing, it was nothing. Oh. One more thing while I have you on the line."

Nadine inhales sharply, waiting for the inevitable. "What's that, ma'am?"

"Is Mike B behaving himself?"

Nadine fumbles her pen in her hand and drops it on the floor. "He's fine, ma'am. I've run into him one or twice... "I ah - didn't see him much today." It's not a total lie. She's only seen Mike once since their lunch thankfully.

"Well, go easy on him when you do. He's a pretty sensitive guy when you get past his shenanigans."

Nadine chuckles, appreciating her boss's uncanny ability to read those around her so accurately. "Have a good night, ma'am. Give everyone my best."

"Will do. Goodnight, Nadine."

"Goodnight, ma'am." She leans against the wall, subtly watching other conference goers make their way through the lobby, enjoying some peace and quiet for the time being.

It turns out to be short lived.

"Oh hey! There you are," Mike strolls up from seemingly out of nowhere moments later. If he's anywhere near as tired as she is, it doesn't show. "I've been looking for you."

"Mike," she acknowledges him, sliding over on the bench to allow him some space, recrossing her legs in the other direction.

"How long have you been sitting here?" He glances at his watch, then back at her.

"A few minutes. Just got off the phone with the secretary," she adds. "Checking in on things back home."

"Does Msec know we're roommates for the next couple days?"

Nadine scoffs. "You know, Mike, not every conversation I have with her involves you. Just taking care of some housekeeping issues."

"You mean your staff can actually function without you?"

"They're just fine," Nadine murmurs, tossing her phone in her bag, listening to the rain that has started to fall. It's surprisingly peaceful, and it could probably put her right to sleep if she sat long enough. It's been one of those days she'd be content ordering takeout and sitting at home on her couch with a glass of scotch, a book, and some classical music in the background.

Mike, of course, has other ideas.

"So...dinner?" His question mirrors the one he asked her days after Election Night almost a year ago, the same hopeful smile on his face. The lobby has cleared out; most of the hotel patrons have gathered in the bar from what she can hear.

"I'm pretty tired, Mike." It's as gentle of a dismissal she can give. "I think I'm just going to go upstairs and read for a bit."

He's not buying it. "Come on, Nadine, it's one dinner."

"Maybe tomorrow, Mike."

He rolls his eyes in frustration. "I'm not asking you shotgun beers with me. It's dinner. One meal. I know a good Tapas bar a few blocks down. You'd like it."

"It's pouring, in case you haven't noticed." Nadine gestures to the double lobby doors and the rain coming down in sheets, the occasional crack of thunder in the distance. Typical Seattle.

"Luckily for you, I came prepared with an extra umbrella. . I know you're not afraid of a little rain." Mike grins like the Cheshire cat. "It's in the room. I'll go grab it … and your raincoat."

She sighs loudly, indicating he's won this one, and Mike squares his shoulders proudly. One dinner can't hurt. "Fine. Can you grab my wallet while you're there too? I left it upstairs after lunch."

"You don't need it. I'm paying," he winks. Nadine opens her mouth to object, and he holds up a hand in concession. "Relax. I'll get it for you."

"Thank you."

He heads to the elevator, calling over his shoulder, "I'm still paying, though!"

Of course he is.

...

Two and a half hours later, they're both slightly buzzed, despite their best intentions. They'd split several tapas plates and a bottle of strong Spanish wine, and it'd been one of the better meals she'd eaten in the last few months. They'd laughed, talked, even reminisced, and for all intents and purposes, it had gone extremely well.

By the time he reached for the check, she'd finally started to feel relaxed again in his presence. On the walk back, she barely noticed when he'd slipped an arm around her waist, his hand casually falling against her hip and staying there.

He suggests room service dessert once they're safely out of the rain and back in their hotel room.

She refuses- she's too full to indulge any further - and instead reaches into her suitcase for her pajamas. For a minute she stares at the pile of soft material in her hands. She's never been insecure, but it feels like a line she shouldn't cross. Nadine turns to face the wall, slipping her blouse over her head, shielding her body from his gaze. _As if it would make a difference_.

"You do realize I've seen you naked? Many times?" Mike teases. She didn't even realize he was watching her. Her face flushes and it's not the wine.

"You keep bringing up the fact that you've seen me naked, Mike. Something tells me it's on your mind." She reaches behind her and unclasps her bra, maneuvering her arms through her sleeves and straps before ultimately tossing it in her suitcase.

"You keep avoiding my question."

"I'm not avoiding anything. But I'm not trying to entice you, Mike." She says it in jest, but there's truth behind her words. Maybe the wine is making her bold.

"Wow, thank you, Nadine. How thoughtful of you." He loosens his tie, throwing it onto the bed in frustration.

"No need to be snarky."

"Did it ever occur to you that simply just being alone with you is a challenge? Let alone we have to share a damn bed?" He tosses his shirt behind him, revealing his shirtless chest. Nadine swallows and pointedly looks averts her gaze.

"You're not the only one who feels that way, Mike," she says softly, unzipping her skirt and dropping it over her hips, stepping into her matching pajama pants. She doesn't bother to turn around this time.

"Then damnit, what are we doing?" He pulls the UVA shirt over his head.

"We're sharing a hotel room, Mike. Remember?"

"Oh, cut that out.. You know it's more than that."

"What the hell do you expect from me," she bristles, the familiar anger she'd felt months ago bubbling up again. She crosses her arms over her chest self-defensively.

"I don't know, Nadine. Maybe something besides awkwardly tap-dancing around the fact that we didn't spend a few months building something together and then seeing it completely blow up in our faces," he spits out bitterly.

"And whose fault is that?" She spat right back.

He glares at her. "Are you serious right now? You chose your career over us. You proved your loyalty. You made your choice." His jaw tightens; his mouth pressed into a thin line, clearly remembering the last conversation they'd had in her office. The one where she'd practically chased him down the hallway and dragged him into her office. They one where he barely gave her a chance to explain herself before he'd stormed out and didn't look back.

"Us?" She can hear the contempt laced in her own voice, but doesn't try to hide it.

"Yes. Us. You ran at the first sign of trouble and reported me to Elizabeth. You never even considered that maybe I wasn't a total piece of shit. You made assumptions and didn't even bother to consider the alternative until it was too late."

"You didn't necessarily fight either, Mike. You walked away, if I remember correctly."

"You're right. I did walk away. I walked away because you don't trust me," his words sting, because they're true; they both know it. "You never did."

She's speechless for the few moments it takes for her to gather her wits. "Damn you, Mike," she says softly, curling her legs to her chest, too tired to argue with him anymore. She takes a few shaky deep breaths, waiting for him to continue. He never does, and instead turns on the TV.

She loses track of how long they sit in silence, but two episodes of MASH have played, so it's been almost an hour when he finally speaks again, muting the TV.

"Nadine?" He sounds tired, resigned. Not something she's seen very often.

"Hmm?"

"Say something," Mike murmurs just loud enough for her hear over the whistle of the air conditioner. "Anything." It's the closest thing to a truce she'll get from him at this point.

She ponders his request, a wry grin twisting over her face when a thought comes to mind. "My intern has a crush on you." Maybe not what he was expecting, but something nonetheless.

He shifts to face her, suddenly amused. "That's what you come up with?"

"You didn't set parameters." She loved seeing him thrown off guard.

He smirks. "Which one? Megan? Mindy? Michelle?"

"Maggie," She corrects him gently.

"The short blonde one?"

"Yes."

"The one who let me in your office? You didn't fire her immediately?"

"No Mike, I didn't. Firing people is your job, remember?"

"Correction. Is it _part_ of my job. A small part, actually. You should pay more attention when I'm around." He rests his hand on her thigh, and she doesn't pull away, much to his surprise. "How'd you figure that out?"

She grins darkly. "I know everything that goes on in that office." Let him stew. She won't tell him the only reason she knows is because the poor girl left her intercom on for over a half hour two weeks ago, making Nadine privy to her entire lunch conversation with another intern.

"Everything, huh?"

"Everything. Why? You interested?"

"You know where my interest lies."

Nadine crosses her ankle over his, dodging his last comment. "She's going to be great one day." Her chest fills with pride when she thinks of Maggie, who, despite her lack of practical intelligence, has come a long way as an intern, mostly due to her tutelage. Mentoring interns is a role Nadine takes very seriously.

"Can we please stop talking about your intern child?" He makes a face as if he's tasted something bitter.

She sighs. "Fine, Mike. What would you prefer to talk about?"

He decides to take things a different route. "Tell me something you regret."

That takes her by surprise. With a small smile, she stretches her arms over her head in thought. "Just one thing?"

"You tell me yours, I'll tell you mine."

"Is that how this works? Somehow I don't think that's fair."

He taps his foot against the bed impatiently.

She gives it a moment of thought, and then words come eventually, slowly, as if she'll trip over them. She may as well go for it. "I regret not letting anyone in." Her voice sounds smaller than she would have liked. She doesn't regret the choices she made regarding Roman, despite their tumultuous history. She doesn't regret all the sacrifices she made to be the best parent she could – the long hours at work, the sometimes-missed concerts and art shows. That, she's learned to accept. But she _does_ regret the fact that she's never found a fulfillment in relationships – particularly romantic ones.. "I wouldn't have done anything differently" she elaborates, searching his face for judgment. "But sometimes I regret not letting anyone get close enough to share my life with. Especially now, and how things turned out"

Mike props himself up on his elbow. "It doesn't sound ridiculous, Nadine." He doesn't take his eyes off of her, watching her face carefully. He wonders if she's referring to the whole Marsh situation, but would never ask.

"I never made it a priority. Roman was my world. That and my career. Now my son lives on the other side of the world and we schedule times to call each other. My career, well, that I'm proud of, but sometimes I wonder what could have been." She can't hide the slight twinge of resentment pin her voice.

They've had parts of this conversation before; he knows about her rocky relationship with Roman and the angst it's caused her over the years. He's learned to recognize the signs that things are terse between them - a lack of appetite, a shorter fuse, a lower tolerance for work-related mistakes. And of course, he's certainly all too aware of the demands and sacrifices of her job – his is the same.

Mike's never actually shared his opinions, just lended an ear when it had come up in the past, which was seldom. He decides now is the time, but treads lightly. "You're a good mother, Nadine. If I'm half the parent you are by the time my kid is in his twenties, I'd be satisfied. And for the record, you aren't _old._ " He pushes a piece of her hair behind her ear.

She smiles gratefully. He's never been shy about complimenting her, but that one feels like it holds just a bit more weight than the others. Your turn." She's relieved to be off the hook, but oddly enough, she feels lighter than she did a few minutes ago.

He stares just beyond her shoulder, clearing his throat, suddenly looking sheepish. "I regret the string of women I dated for two months after we broke up."

She lifts an eyebrow in amusement, completely taken aback. "A string of women?" Not exactly what she was expecting, but then again, it _was_ Mike B, who always has something in his belt, and he looks completely serious. _Maybe he wasn't full of BS._ "As in many?"

"Well, a few. More than 2. Less than 5. They all had dark hair. Impossibly smart. Short, about your height. Can't imagine where I ever developed a type." He winks at her. "To be fair, I didn't notice until Bess pointed it out."

"And what, pray tell did she point out exactly?" Nadine isn't sure if she should be alarmed or flattered, and certainly isn't pleased with the thought of Mike being so open about their situation with Elizabeth. Clearly, he'd been pining, much to her surprise. But she's intrigued, so she crosses her arms over her chest, eyes expectantly wide.

Mike cracks his knuckles. "I believe her exact words were, 'Mike, you've got a problem,' and she made a point to tell me just how royally I fucked things up with you. She's definitely still got the CIA thing in her. I don't know how she could have ever figured it out." His tone lightens.

"No kidding." Nadine clears her throat. So what happened with this _string_ of women?" She stretches against the pillows, feeling strangely powerful. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine Mike to be _that_ guy. Maybe things hit him harder than she'd imagined it would.

"They weren't as flexible as you are so it obviously didn't work out." His eyes shine wickedly, and she slaps him on the arm. "It wasn't nearly as fun."

She turns a light shade of scarlet, remembering how wide his eyes had gone when he'd learned the fun way just how limber she was. "Be serious, Mike. For once."

His next response is automatic, like he'd been planning it. "They weren't you." Then, he moves so quickly it takes her by surprise. In seconds, she's pinned beneath him. She squeals in shock. His body is a familiar weight on top of her, the lingering scent of cologne and soap filling her nose. His knee braces her legs, one arm supporting her back underneath of her. Her breath catches in her throat when Nadine realizes their faces are mere centimeters from one another, his lips brushing over the tip of her nose.

"What are you doing?" She rests her hands on his arms, squeezing his triceps. It's a rhetorical question, really. It needs no answer.

"This." His lips crash onto hers, meeting in a kiss, and then his tongue is invading her mouth. To his surprise she deepens the kiss, taking his bottom lip between her teeth and sucking on it. He explores her mouth a bit, remembering how well her lips fit against his and her body felt beneath him. She winds an elbow around his neck, pressing kisses down his neck.

"Careful," she breathes against him when he starts nipping at her neck. "I didn't bring any concealer."

He only laughs, moving his lips down to her neck and chest. "I'll mark you somewhere no one will see it."

The thought of it makes her shudder because she knows how true it is. Nadine gasps quietly; she'd forgotten what a good kisser he was. Mike's mouth leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses along her chest and neck, his hands squeezing her arms, stroking her back - as if desperately just wanting to touch any part of her he can reach.

Their lips meet again, a deep kiss, almost desperate, and his tongue slides into her mouth. Their hands join above their heads, and she squeezes his fingers in hers. Mike dips his head toward her breast, kissing the smooth skin there, and she lifts her hips suggestively against his pelvis.

Mike groans, but stills above her. Part of him wants to tear her shirt off and finish what he started. But, it's Nadine, and he doesn't want to completely ruin his chance of making all of this right. He pulls away, his eyes glazed over. "Got a little carried away." He grins, and she kisses him sweetly on the cheek. He makes a show of examining her neck and chest for any accidental hickeys or bite marks. "But no marks."

"No marks," she repeats, looking slightly dazed, sitting up and fixing the pillows behind her. She yawns, reaching for her phone to set her alarm. "I'm tired. Must have been that wine."

Mike gently pushes a piece of hair out of her face. "Wasn't just the wine, sweetheart."

"You're not off the hook, you know."

He narrows an eyebrow. "What did I do now?"

"For your _string_ of women," she reminds him. "I haven't forgotten."

He pretends to zip his lips. "It goes to my grave."He kisses her again, this time chastely on the cheek, before switching off the light. "Sleep well."

Somehow, they find each other again in the night, and wake up wrapped around each other once again. This time, neither says a word about it.

…

Day 2 is even longer than day 1 if that's possible, and the same familiar headache starts to creep through her temples mid afternoon.

By 5:30 that evening, her shoes hurt so badly she ducks out of the last networking session half an hour early and heads back to the room. Upon further inspection in the bathroom, she curses herself quietly for the state of her feet, which look like they've been through a food processor thanks to the brand new Stuart Weitzman pumps she'd been coveting for a few weeks. Definitely not appropriate footwear for this type of work function. She digs the tiny first aid kit out of her toiletries bag, getting to work.

She barely registers the sound of the door opening a few moments later.

"Nadine?" Mike calls out, and she hears the soft thud of his briefcase hitting the floor.

"In here."

"What are you doing?" Mike's voice gets closer, and he finds her precariously balanced on the edge of the sink, her stockings in a heap on the floor, awkwardly trying to clean her bleeding feet without falling off the narrow counter. "What the hell happened?"

"Just a blister," Nadine winces as the antiseptic hits her skin. Twisted at such an awkward angle on the counter, she looks like a contortionist. "New shoes."

He notices her abandoned shoes on the floor, a pair he hadn't recognized that morning, with narrow high heels that look ridiculously impractical for a day of meetings. "Just a blister? It looks like you got into a fight with a weed wacker."

"It's really not that bad, Mike." Leaning over, she loses her balance and nearly falls off the counter, catching herself at the last minute.

"Jesus Christ, Nadine." Mike reaches out to steady her. "Let me help you. You're going to break your back trying to do this."

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of it myself," she brushes him aside without even a glance in his direction, but Mike firmly takes both of her wrists in one hand, pulling the bottle of antiseptic from her fingers with the other hand.

He tightens his hold on her wrists to get her attention. "I _know_ you are capable, Nadine. I'm not saying you aren't capable. Just _let_ me do it, before you bleed all over the floor and I have to tell your boss why you didn't make it home."

Inhaling sharply, she concedes. "Fine."

"Thank you. Now sit down on the floor and let me see."

He washes his hands at the sink. "Put your foot here," he taps his thigh, reaching for the towel she'd used to clean the blood off her battered ankles. "Jesus, Nadine. What the hell kind of shoes are these?" Mike dampens the towel with the antiseptic, then carefully presses it to her foot. She flinches at the contact. "Burns?"

"Just a bit." Nadine rests against the bathtub, leaning back and closing her eyes. It does feel good to just sit down for the first time all day.

"How long have you been wearing these shoes?" He squeezes some antiseptic cream from the small tube at her side, thumbing it over the first blister on her right foot before reaching for her left.

"Since this morning."

"Seems pretty stupid to me." Mike dabs her left foot with the antiseptic-laden towel. When she gives him a narrow stare, he continues. "It just seems pointless to wear such ridiculous shoes." He shakes his head and feigns disappointment.

"You know what else is pointless? Leaving 6 pages of directions for the dog sitter." She flinches again as Mike finishes cleaning off the wound on her foot. She's referring to an overheard conversation between mike and dog sitter from earlier.

"Actually, it was 10 pages, and hold still before you kick me in the face." Mike looks up from from the antiseptic cream, reaching for the band aids. " Gordon is rather high maintenance. I could have stretched it to 12 pages if I really wanted to."

With surprisingly practiced ease and unexpected tenderness, Mike puts the band aids over her now cleaned blisters. "All done," he says, offering her his hand to stand up. "You should probably change your shoes."

"Duly noted."

…

Things go south after dinner, which is a flatbread pizza, another bottle of wine (white this time), and some fried calamari at a small Italian place three blocks away with an outdoor balcony. It'd been surprisingly light and fun, with easy conversation and good food, with surprisingly no mention of the previous evening.

She's not exactly sure what's going on, but he doesn't push it, neither does she, and it works. Once they'd gotten back, they'd settled into a movie - Casablanca (her request, and he begrudgingly accepts), slowly gravitating towards each other when the opening credits roll. Her head rests on his shoulder, curled into his side. His leg is twisted with hers, his arm around her waist. It's familiar, and she won't deny it feels almost _good_ to be next to him. They're forty minutes into the movie when it all falls apart.

"We could make it work, you know," he says almost wistfully. She's not sure if it was even meant for her ears. But she can't ignore it, and pauses Casablanca.

"What?" She hasn't misheard, but she needs to buy herself some time to gather her thoughts, to regain what little ground she has to stand on.

"You and me." He tightens his arm around her waist.

She sighs heavily. "We can't, Mike." She won't lie, the last few days have been a pleasant surprise. But it still doesn't shake the uneasy feeling that accompanies the thought of _them_.

He scoffs. "You always say that. Why not?"

"Look at what happened the first time."

"Yeah - you started accusing me of being a traitor," he says dryly. "But I'm still willing to try again. That should at least give me a brownie point or two." He undoes their tangled limbs and puts a few inches of space between them on the bed.

She rolls her eyes. This again. "To reiterate, I did not _accuse_ you. I found information that, yes, could have been damaging to your career. I took said information to the secretary that was ultimately proven to be false. It was _my job_." She says the last two words slowly, evenly, as if he didn't understand. "We've been over this. More than once."

"No, we've been over the fact that you didn't trust me enough or care enough to just ask _me_ about it instead of running right to Elizabeth." His tone mocks hers; he can play her game.

She knows he's partly right. By now, she sees that. She's tired of justifying herself and the choices she made. She regrets not going to him, not just _asking_ him about EIL, because it was the impetus to their now ruined experiment, relationship, whatever it was. But what's done is done.

"Did you actually think it would have worked in the first place, Mike?"

Mike visibly stiffens as if he's been punched, his mouth pressing into a firm line. "I wanted it to." There's a heavy silence, and then he opens his mouth to speak again, then stops.

"What do you want to say, Mike?"

"Forget it." He swallows hard. "It's not worth it." _He's hurt_. She doesn't blame him, and before she can open her mouth to rectify any small piece of this mess, he throws the covers back, the sheets nearly slapping her in the face as he stalks out of the bed.

"Where are you going?"

"To take a cold shower." Without another word, he disappears into the bathroom, the slam of the door punctuating his angry footsteps. Nadine hears the creak of the faucet, the rush of the water. _You messed up again, Nadine_ , her inner voice taunts her relentlessly. She pulls her knees to her chest, berating herself for screwing things up _again_. _She hadn't_ wanted _it to fail. But she didn't necessarily_ stop _it from failing, either. So, they're both equally to blame._

An idea pops into her head, one she's even shocked at herself for considering. She's not even convinced it'd fix the situation at hand. She debates for a few seconds, hardly long enough to classify as actually thinking. And then, against her better judgment, she leaps out of the bed before she loses her wits.

She leaves her pajamas on the floor, momentarily questioning her sanity, then shoulders the door open. It slams into the wall with a loud bang.

"Jesus Christ, Nadine! Are you actually trying to kill me before this week is over? **"** Mike's head appears from behind the shower door, then his entire body comes into takes a moment before he realizes she's naked before him, and his eyes nearly bug out of his head."What the hell are you doing?" He unabashedly stares at her for several long moments, not even bothering to hide his growing erection.

"What does it look like?" With more boldness than she actually feels, Nadine crosses the bathroom in three steps, leaning on the open shower door. "Why don't you let me take care of that?" She reaches out and cups her hand around him, running her fingers along the sides of his erection. He twitches in her palm; she gives a gentle squeeze.

Mike gasps, his hips rocking against her hand, eyes closing. He steps back, bracing himself against the marble shower wall as Nadine sinks to her knees, the hot spray soaking her almost instantly. When her mouth closes around him, he groans loudly, clenching his fingers into her shoulder hard enough to bruise, pulling her closer to him.

It's been awhile since she's done this. Nadine takes her time, not in any hurry, lapping her tongue along the sides and tip of him, enjoying the process of relearning what makes him fall apart. From the sounds he's making above her, she knows she's doing a good job. She uses her tongue, alternating between soft licks and broad strokes, and Mike's eyes slam shut. From what she can hear, it sounds like he hit his head on the wall. She takes him deeper into her mouth, developing a rhythm, and his hand tightens on her upper arm. She can sense he's close.

"Nadine," he rolls his hips against her chin, "Fuck," he chokes out as her mouth slides back down over him again and again, "I'm going to -"

His whole body suddenly tenses before he finishes right into her mouth. Nadine pulls him closer to her and scratches her nails down his legs as he comes back down, and kisses the skin on his thighs. He's breathing heavily and cursing, and she smiles up at him from her position on the floor.

Mike loosens his grip on her now soaked hair, his legs unsteady beneath him. "Christ, Nadine," his words are choppy as his breathing returns to normal. "I - my God." He stops to gather his wits.

She glances up at him and winks demurely, rising to her feet. "Use your words, Mike." She stands just out of his reach.

"My turn," Mike shakes water out of his face and grabs for her almost greedily. He's already mentally planning all the ways he can make her come in the next ten minutes, right there in the shower. His eyes are clouded with lust.

"I think we've done enough for this evening," she murmurs, reaching for a towel and wringing her hair out with it, then wrapping it around her and stepping out of the shower. She stops and turns, looking back at him over her shoulder with disinterest. "Goodnight, Mike."

It takes him almost a full minute to realize she's gone.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N – here's part 3, which is the last one! Thank you all for reading- honestly, it's been such a mini labor of love for the last few weeks. Huge thank you to Pillar—of—Salt for the support along the way. Warning – this is rated M.

…

The space beside her is noticeably empty, and she senses his absence before she's even fully conscious. She opens her eyes; the sheets on his side are cool, suggesting he's been gone for a while. But she hears the gentle hum of the TV on low, and upon lifting her head a few inches, she sees Mike in one of the chairs, eyes glued to the screen, sipping coffee from a Styrofoam cup.

On the nightstand next to her is a paper cup full of steaming hot tea and a glass of water. He was one step ahead of her. Actually, at this point, at least three steps ahead of her. Somehow he always remembered her needs, despite the absolute mess of the last twelve hours.

"You're up early," her voice breaks the silence. A quick glance of her phone indicates it's nearly time for her to get up and shower.

"I went to the gym."

"You?" Nadine lifts an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth lifting at the image of Mike pumping iron or pounding it out on a treadmill. "I've never seen you voluntarily exercise."

"I workout," he says dismissively, "Just not regularly."

"I didn't hear your alarm go off," she treads lightly, purposefully keeping her tone light, offering him a chance to take the bait and open a conversation.

"I turned it off. Couldn't sleep." He looks like he has more to say, so she purposefully remains silent, sipping her tea, waiting.

"Listen, about last night," he begins, the tops of his ears noticeably red. _He's been fumin_ g.

"Mike," she knows an argument is inevitable now.

"Just let me finish." His voice is so dismissive and cold it makes her wince. The finality of his tone feels like an ultimatum. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe the reason why you never let anyone in is because you actively push them away? You keep me at arm's length with your _rules_ and stipulations but when you feel like testing the waters, when you're in the mood, it's good enough."

He's using her own words against her – the rules and stipulations. Keeping things quiet at work, never openly admitting anything was going on between them. Her face reddens with embarrassment and anger. "That's not true," she tries but falls short. Everything he's saying is in some way, shape, or form true. She cringes at the thought of what'd happened between them last night. Clearly it'd had the opposite effect than what she intended.

"You tell me bits and pieces, never the whole story. None of this actually means anything to you, does it? It's all about what's easy for you, what lets you to take the most and give the least. Someone to call when you feel lonely and then forget about."

She considers him for a few moments, her face emotionless. "It was never anything more than that," She says coolly, regretting the words before they fall from her lips. Still, the damage was done.

His face visibly crumples, and she knows she's hurt him. She wonders if her words sting like his did.

"Maybe to you it wasn't," Mike begins, swallowing hard.He pulls on his suit jacket, nearly ripping the buttons through the tiny holes. "If that's how you feel then consider this experiment failed. I'm done."

 _Fuck_ , she thinks, knowing if he walks now she can't salvage it. It's not what she meant. "Mike, wait," she tries, grabbing his arm to stop him. But he's too quick and too strong, and easily rips his arm from her grasp. This can't be happening a second time. Once was hard enough.

"Let go of me." Mike's voice is pure ice. He turns sharply on his heel, grabs his briefcase, and slams the door behind him.

…

She spends the whole morning replaying their conversation in her brain like a broken record until she wants to hit her head against the table. Each time, the pit in her stomach grows until she can barely hear the speaker in her morning session, let alone think about anything going on around her. By noon, she's nursing yet another headache, and by 3, all she wants is a drink. Or several.

When she quietly slips into their room at the end of the day, Nadine is partly relieved to see him sitting at the small desk, pouring over his computer, because at least he's still here. He ignores her completely, not even looking up from his spot. She wonders, regretfully, if they'll spend the entire evening in silence.

"I'm sorry." It doesn't seem like enough, but it's all she's got.

His back stiffens at the sound of her voice. "I'm not."

 _That one stings_. "Mike," she begins, nervously. She hates the fact that even now, he still has the ability to make her anxious, so effortlessly. It's unnerving.

"I don't want to hear it, Nadine." He doesn't even turn around.

She begins to wonder if any of this is even worth it.

"Just hear me out, please." Her voice is tinged with regret. She wonders if he notices, or cares. She stares at his back, willing him to turn around. _Finally,_ he turns to face her slowly.

"What?" Clearly he's still reeling over her words from this morning. He actually for once looks like hell – ashen, with bags under his eyes. He looks like he's pulled an all nighter.

"I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it." She clears her throat and tries to meet his steely gaze.

"You sounded pretty honest." Mike looks past her shoulder at the wall behind her. "I'm not doing this with you, Nadine."

"What?"

"I'm not having this conversation again. For the fourth or fifth time," he yanks at the tie around his neck, pulling it loose. "We both know how this goes." He sighs in defeat.

She feels just as defeated as he sounds. "We never seem to say the right thing to one another." She sits down on the bed, as it it'll support her.

He nods thoughtfully. "You're right about that one."

"It doesn't have to be this way."

"What are you trying to say, Nadine?" A hint of frustration creeps into his voice.

"I'm saying," She begins, inhaling a shaky breath, "Is that, you were right about a lot of things."

"Does it pain you to say that out loud?" He can't help it. She scoffs, but the corner of her mouth lifts a tiny bit.

"Just a little." She stares at her knees. "But you are, and I said some pretty awful things to you, and I didn't mean them."

"I'm a big boy, I can handle it." Mike's face visibly softens. "And," he continues, choosing his words carefully, "Regardless of how this turns out, _we_ were worth more to me than just convenience."

"Me too." Her voice is nearly inaudible, and he knows just how hard it was for her to admit that.

Mike comes to stand in front of her. He reaches for her hand and threads his fingers through hers. "I accept your apology, Nadine. And I'm sorry too, for throwing things in your face like I have the last few days."

She looks up at him. "I'm tired of fighting with you, Mike."

"I know," he says softly, reaching for her other hand. "Me, too." It feels like a truce, albeit a weak one, but a truce nonetheless. They stay like that for several long moments, until she speaks again.

"You know," she rises to her feet, and even on tiptoe, only comes up to his chin. Nadine presses her cheek to his chest. "I think it _was_ your turn, if I remember correctly."

Mike's eyes widen, but he certainly doesn't object, and winds an arm around her waist. "My turn?"

She gives him a coy smile, and his throat tightens. _Surely she's not serious,_ he thinks, but then she presses her body into his, and he's practically a goner then and there.

"I was working on something, you know," he pulls her in tighter, fighting a losing battle. "It was important."

"Worry about it later," she pushes him back towards the wall with more strength than she realized she had, but Mike pulls her right along with him, flush against his chest. She lifts her chin to meet his, and then he's kissing her, and she loops an arm around his neck because she needs to feel him closer to her. His mouth is over hers, and she can taste a faint trace of whiskey. _._ She licks his lips, as if asking for permission to kiss him back, and when he finally lets her, she groans into his mouth. Her tongue explores his mouth, running along his teeth. _Definitely whiskey,_ she thinks. _Clearly it'd been a rough afternoon for him too_.

Mike spins her around so now her back is pressed against the wall, and he continues his path along her neck with his lips. His hands slide under the hem of her shirt, trailing over her stomach, fingers digging into her ribcage. Nadine rises on tiptoes to kiss his jawline. "You have too many clothes on," She tugs at his suit jacket lapels.

"Ditto." He fumbles with the buttons on her shirt until she finally finishes the job, and then pulls at his until it's abandoned on the floor. She grips his upper arms; her small hands can barely flex around the width of his biceps. She searches for leverage as he pins her against the wall again and leaves a row of kisses down the side of her jaw then finding her lips. Mike presses his knee between her legs and she moans into his mouth.

Her blouse hangs haphazardly on her shoulder before falling away, revealing a dark blue lace bra with a front clasp that contrasts well with her pale skin. Mike squeezes her breasts with both hands, and a small yelp erupts from her throat. "Too much?"

"Keep going," she arches her back, urging him to touch her again, and this time he squeezes just a little bit harder. She presses herself against him, and Mike's lips close around the shell of her ear.

She nearly rips his shirt in her attempt to get it off of him, and he merely smiles before covering her hands with his, quickly freeing the buttons and shedding it behind him. "Patience," he whispers into her ear, sending a chill down her back. Mike pulls one of the cups of her bra down, and takes her nipple into his mouth. She gasps when his teeth sink down, and he holds her closer to his chest as he switches to the other.

"God, I want you," he groans against her shoulder, pushing her into the wall. She's wearing too many layers, so he unclasps the front of her bra and throws it somewhere behind him, bending his head down to kiss her now bare chest.

She pushes her breasts into his face. "Well, are you going to do something about it?"

He bites down on her shoulder tauntingly. "Just you wait, sweetheart."

Shivers run down her spine and her hips buck lightly into his.

His hands travel down to her waist, pulling at the hem of her skirt. "Your clothes always seem to get in my way," he complains with a smile, practically ripping the fabric from her hips once he's gotten the zipper down. He takes a step back, eyeing her up and down, then running his hands over the smooth skin of her hips.

"You've never had any issues taking them off," She quips, her breath hitching in her throat when his fingers trail over the matching dark blue underwear she's wearing.

"You're perfect," he whispers into her hair, words that are never far from the forefront of his mind. She smiles into his chest. "Utterly perfect." He drops kisses on her sternum and the flat plane of her stomach, before dropping to his knees and trailing kisses down over her thighs.

"What are you waiting for?" She presses her pelvis into his face, legs beginning to tremble at the anticipation of what she knows is going to come next.

"I'm admiring you," He hooks his finger through the front of her underwear. "Why the rush? Got somewhere else to be?"

A strangled cry escapes her throat. "Now, Mike." he can sense her impatience, but he'll be damned if this isn't enjoyable for her. He's not in this to fuck her and fall asleep. He's going to take his time, savor her, and blow her mind along the way.

"I'm in no hurry, Nadine." He's fully prepared to make sure she enjoys this. Mike stands, cupping her chin in his hands, kissing her face. And then he lifts her up, one arm under her knees and the other around her back, carrying her across the room and setting her down on the bed before laying down next to her.

"Now, where were we?"

She lifts her hips toward him teasingly, and he shakes his head again. "Not quite yet." Mike's fingers dip below her matching underwear and her breath hitches when his knuckle grazes her clit. "Is this what you want?"

"Y-yes," Nadine arches her back. "Please, Mike," she breathes, and it takes nearly all of his self control to not devour her right there. He continues his exploration of her body, nipping at her ribcage, tracing his lips over the delicate curve of her hips before finally pausing at her stomach.

"We should get rid of these," he pulls at the band of her underwear. She lifts her hips and Mike pulls them off, tossing them over his shoulder. "You don't need these anymore tonight." They fall somewhere behind him on the floor.

"What about you?" Nadine gestures to his pants. "You're still fully clothed." She pulls at his belt, failing to undo the buckle. She struggles with it, a look of amusement crossing Mike's face.

"Need some help?" Mike quickly undoes the buckle and buttons, and Nadine haphazardly pushes his pants down past his legs, then his boxers. Her eyes widen at the sight of his now freed erection, and she reaches down with one hand to stroke him. He sighs against her neck, and gasps when her hand tightens around him and increases the pace of her movements.

Finally, Mike hovers over her, positioning himself between her legs and carefully bringing his body to cover hers, hooking her leg around his hip. In one smooth stroke he pushes into her fully, covering the sharp inhale that escapes her lips with a soft kiss. He teases her with small movements, just enough to make her need him more than she already did, and she moans softly in his ear.

Her muscles flutter around him tauntingly, and he needs to move before he blows it right there. She feels even better than she did 4 months ago if possible. Beneath him, she shifts her hips teasingly, impatiently. "Now, Mike." There's a bit of desperation in her voice that wasn't there minutes ago.

Mike pulls back and then pushes back into her with a sharp drive of his hips, again, then again. She gasps in surprise, or pleasure, or both, and curls her other leg around him, her heel digging into the small of his back. It's been awhile, he remembers, willing himself to slow down, but she doesn't seem to mind. "Like that," she practically purrs, lifting her hips to meet his. "Faster." She doesn't care if it sounds demanding.

He's not about to turn her down.

"Oh my god," she shudders when he reaches down and strokes her clit with his thumb. "That feels amazing." Her head falls back, and Mike sucks at the pulse point on her neck, which will most definitely be a bruise the next day. He doesn't care at this point, and quite frankly, neither does she.

"Missed you," she murmurs, eyes closing as her orgasm builds, and it takes only a few more thrusts until she lets go, her entire body starting to shake and she practically cries out his name. He goes with her, rocking into her once more before he's finished too, practically falling on top of her, arms numb. They slump together, catching their breath, chests heaving with effort..

"I missed you, too," he whispers when he can breathe again, kissing her forehead and nose. "So much." He carefully shifts off of her and disappears for a moment. He returns back with a glass of water, which he takes a sip of before handing to her.

She yawns and stretches beneath the covers, her body exhausted. Mike rejoins her in the bed, and she instinctively curls herself into his arms. He tucks his chin over her shoulder and presses a kiss to her cheek.

"Round two?"

She pushes him onto his back and goes to town.

...

It'd been somewhat of a late night, complete with a room service pizza and beer in between multiple rounds of sex, until they were both too exhausted to move. Hours later, barely enough to classify as a night of sleep, she awakens with her leg slung over his, her head against his chest, his hand protectively covering her hip.

There's a familiar ache in her muscles; one she hasn't felt in a long time. Given how quickly it hits her and how intensely she feels it, she's positive it'll last for at least a day or two. Sitting down will definitely be a challenge for the time being.

Mike stirs beneath her when he feels her move, his hand coming up to cover her head. "Morning," he grunts, pushing her hair from his face. "You know, that's one thing I didn't miss about sleeping with you. Always having your hair in my mouth."

"What time is it?" She shrugs from under his arm, reaching for her phone out of habit, which is across the room and probably dead.

"4:40." Mike reaches underneath the sheets and gives her breast a gentle squeeze, and her body responds automatically as she lifts her hips to meet his. He pinches her nipple and she swallows a moan. "Gives me plenty of time." His lips find her neck, planting a row of kisses behind her ear.

"To do what?" She runs her fingers down his spine.

"Have you practically screaming my name again." He's hard already against her hip. "Remember that?" He reaches underneath of her, pulling her flush against his chest, trailing his lips across her chest.

She does remember. perfectly. As if she could forget.

Nadine claws at his back, kissing his jawline before finding his lips with hers. Her body responds to his touches and kisses almost immediately. Mike's lips close around her nipple, his tongue swirling a pattern before going for the other. She moans when his teeth bite down gently, sending a shiver through her body.

He nudges her legs open with his knee, fingers trailing between her legs, one then two finding its way inside of her. She tries to relax and enjoy it, but it's short lived. She's too sore for this.

" _Mike_ ," she hisses, swatting his hand away. "Stop."

He stops immediately, brushing her hair from her face. "What? Did I hurt you?" Mike leans over her, tenderly rubbing her thigh, looking concerned.

"No ...I'm just too -" She searches his face, feeling her cheeks flush.

His face softens, understanding flicking through his eyes. "You're sore," Mike finishes her sentence, pulling his hand away and kissing her knee. "It's okay. I have a better idea anyway."

"What's that?"

With a grin, he throws the heavy comforter off them both and presses her bent leg open, then the other. The cold air hits her skin, and he eyes her hungrily. Kneeling between her spread knees, Mike kisses the inside of her thigh from the knee down, pausing to leave a kiss on her lower stomach, then repeating the kisses on her other leg. "I think you'll enjoy this more,"

When his lips brush against her clit, it takes her by shock and her back arches off the bed. She digs her heel into his back, rocking her hips against his face. "Mike," she cries his name, stretching it to four syllables. _He's right, this was a much better idea._

"Told ya," he murmurs, his tongue dipping inside of her. "Is this better?"

"God, yes," she breathes heavily. She hasn't forgotten how incredibly good at this he is, and when the flat of his tongue sweeps over her in broad circles, Nadine swears under her breath and grips the edge of the mattress, digging her nails into the sheets. Mike continues to alternate between the broad sweeps of his tongue and tiny circles. It only takes minutes before she starts to convulse, her hips lifting off the mattress.

"God, Mike, I'm so close." With one more stroke of his tongue, she comes so hardher entire body starts to quiver uncontrollably . She tries to move beneath him, but Mike holds her carefully and continues to kiss and lick her until she finally stops moving. Looking very pleased with himself, Mike drops a kiss on her stomach, then her rib cage, and finally to her lips. "Better now?"

She sighs contentedly. "I am, but what about you?"

"Don't worry about me," Mike grunts, but she knows better than that. He's staring at the ceiling, concentrating on the intricate tile pattern above their heads.

"What are you doing?" She threads her fingers through the patch of hair on his chest.

"Thinking of anything else but you," he growls, squeezing her fingers against his chest. "You're distracting me, you know, when you do that."

"Stop talking," she breathes, brushing her fingers over him, and she swears he gets bigger in her hand when she runs her hand over him. She pumps him twice, then moves so she's straddling his hips, her breasts inches from his face. She leans down further and gives him a sloppy kiss.

"What are you doing?" Mike looks at her wide-eyed. "Nadine … "

"Screw it," she pins his hands down with hers next to his head, ignoring the ache that intensifies when she lowers herself down on him to the hilt. Mike holds her hips, careful to avoid the bruises that are already starting to show from hours before, and rubs the small of her back as she adjusts.

"Nadine," Mike's hips twitch involuntarily once then twice, maybe a bit too forcefully based upon the tiny wince that crosses her face, and he reaches for her wrists, holding her for a minute. "You just said you were too sore."

She ignores him, instead presses a soft kiss to his lips. "It's your turn, Mike." She rocks back and forth a few times, swaying her hips just how he likes. "You feel so good," she breathes, moving just a little faster.

"God," he sighs, sliding his hands to her legs. "You're so beautiful."

She leans back and quickens her movements, swaying her hips in time with his thrusts. It's like they haven't forgotten exactly what the other person needs.

"I'm not going to last if you keep this up," he gasps, curling one hand around the sheet and the other around her waist. "You feel so fucking good."

"I don't care," she leans back and rests her hands on his shins, and Mike's eyes nearly roll back in his head at the change of angle. She braces her knees on either side of his hips and meets him stroke for stroke. He forgets about taking it slow for her sake, and increases the intensity of his movement.

She practically cries out with pleasure, reaching down and stroking herself.

"Jesus Christ, Nadine," Mike's eyes widen at the visual in front of him, and he pounds into her twice more, before he comes,releasing into her, his body starting to go limp. She's panting too, shoulders heaving, skin damp with sweat, and she gingerly slides off of him, settling at his side.

She leans over to kiss him, her lips warm and wet on his.

"You okay?" Mike reaches for her hand under the blankets and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"More than," Nadine sighs contentedly. "You?"

"Obviously." He rests his hand on her stomach, stroking her skin lightly. "You're incredible."

"You aren't so bad yourself." Contentedly, she snuggles next to him, and dozes off within seconds.

...

At 5:50, they finally pull themselves from the bed not because they want to, but because they have a flight to catch in mere hours. 

Mike offers to get her coffee and breakfast while she gets ready. She takes a shower, letting the hot water sting over her sore muscles. Upon quick inspection of body in the mirror she notices multiple bruises and red marks that leave a detailed blueprint of where his hands and mouth claimed her, multiple times over. She skips washing her hair (partly because her arms are too sore) and by the time he gets back she is half dressed, padding around the hotel room in a pair of black pants and a bra.

"It was slim pickings this morning," he hands her a cup of tea and a cranberry muffin with two ibuprofen capsules on the side. Not her favorite, but it will have to do. "I know you aren't a huge fan of cranberry but it was all they had. Guess they're ready to get rid of us." Mike kisses her cheek, taking a sip of her tea before stepping into the bathroom for a shower. "How much time do I have?" He finishes the remainder of the bagel he'd brought back.

"This is just fine, thank you Mike. About forty minutes." She finishes dressing herself, zipping her pants and finding a casual wrap sweater. Her phone is dead, having spent all night on the ground in her skirt pocket with the rest of her clothes, so she plugs it in and anxiously awaits the onslaught of emails that undoubtedly flooded her inbox over the last twelve hours.

Mike is ready in less than fifteen minutes, so they spend some time packing up the room, throwing each other various articles of clothing that have somehow mixed together over the last few days. She folds her clothes into the suitcase, tucking away various smaller bags of makeup and jewelry, lining her shoes neatly at the bottom.

"So I guess we successfully survived?"

"Depends on your definition of successful," Nadine quips, taking the bra he hands to her, then throws him a pair of his pants.

"We're both still here," Mike offers, tossing a few pairs of shoes into his suitcase. "That should count."

"It does," she agrees, reaching for her makeup bag. "I'd say we made up fairly well, wouldn't you?" She winks at him, and he gives her a wide grin.

"Mind-blowingly well," Mike retorts, reaching for his UVA t-shirt tangled with one of her blouses. "No incidental room charges to my credit card, either."

Nadine stifles a laugh. "We still have a few minutes, you know."

He gives her a devious wink before pulling her into his arms and down onto the bed with him.

…

They're on the same flight home, which is delayed two hours due to weather.

Once they're checked in at the gate, Nadine scrolls through a few missed emails and memos before settling down with a book in her lap. She sips a cup of tea and over the rim of her glasses catches him checking her out every so often.

He doesn't even bother trying to hide it.

Mike, as his luck would have it, spends almost an hour of their delay on the phone with his ex wife because their son breaks his arm at a baseball game. Flustered, he reports to Nadine his son will need a cast for 8 weeks and the possibility of physical therapy.

"He's not the most athletically inclined," Mike rolls his eyes in frustration when he hangs up the phone for the third time, settling into the chair next to hers. "Ran right into another kid and they both went down. Other kid doesn't even have a scratch. My kid has a broken arm."

"Maybe he inherited his athleticism from his father," she responds dryly, giving him a light pat on the arm. "He'll be alright?" She questions, checking her watch.

"His pride is more wounded than his arm." Mike leans back in his chair. "Apparently breaking your arm at baseball is a life-ending event for an eleven year old."

Nadine laughs, secretly relieved those days are over for her. "Just you wait. It gets worse when they're older." She returns to her book when his phone rings again, giving him some space to work out the situation.

...

The flight home is relatively uneventful despite some intense turbulence, and when they finally head to baggage claim at Reagan, it hits her just how exhausted she is. She still needs to call a cab to get back to her condo, she remembers with annoyance. With a huge yawn, she reaches into her pocket for her phone.

"I can take you home. I valet parked, so my car is here." Mike offers once he hauls both of their suitcases off baggage claim. They'd officially made it home in one unbroken piece.

"Uber is fine," Nadine scrolls through the screen for her Uber app, but Mike yanks the phone from her hand.

"You're not taking an Uber. The surcharge alone will be ridiculous and they always take the long way around. I can have you home in less than an hour."

"Don't you need to get back to see your son?" She rolls her eyes, holding out her hand for her phone back.

"My ex wife let him go to the movies with some of his knucklehead friends. They're much cooler than me, anyway. I'll head over there tomorrow to do some damage control."

"It's so out of your way." It really is. She lives in the heart of DC and he lives in Alexandria, which certainly isn't a commute she'd want to make after a day of traveling.

Really, it's not a problem at all." He's already pulling her suitcase in the direction of the airport valet lot.

She's too tired to argue with him, so she concedes.

The traffic out of Reagan is as usual, a total nightmare, and it's another hour of traffic before he pulls up in front of her condo. He doesn't even need directions, not that she's surprised.

"I thought you said less than an hour," she mocks him lightly.

"Can't control traffic, sweetheart." He turns off the ignition, and a silence falls over the car.

She thanks him, and before she can open the door, his hand is on her wrist.

"Have dinner with me next week?" He asks hopefully.

She leans against the doorframe, a smile beginning to crack at the corners of her lips. "I'll have to check my schedule." He knows it's as close to a yes as she'll give.

It's good enough for him.

-Fin-

Thanks for reading - you're all wonderful.


End file.
